Earlier today, I got a text from a guy – what I thought was a picture of a white goose.

I looked up the area code, and it was Northern Virginia. I assumed an old flame from DC had found my number and contacted me, which was great/creepy as hell.

Anyway, as you can see, he had tried to send me a swan. An ugly duckling who turned into a swan, that is.

But here’s the thing, I was sure. Swans don’t look like that.

That picture was def not a swan. It was a goose.

This is a swan.

That? Not a swan.

Nice try, dude. As my dad would say, “Close, but no cigar” (anyone know where that phrase comes from? I have no idea).

Later, I found out who it was. Some guy who had given me 50 bucks and waited for a locksmith with me one time at an Exxon in Virginia five years ago, when I locked my keys in my car. So, that wasn’t weird at all, or anything.

Anyway, further research showed me it was a trumpeter swan, which looks different from the mute swan (the kind with the orange face). I was wrong, he was right.